Cafe au Lait
by skybluescramble
Summary: A story of a boy and a waitress. Who was she? No clue. He didn't even know her name. But...? :A ONE-SHOT:


from **skybluescramble**:

Well ~ this author is back with another fic.

Furthermore, it is a one-shot! Hoorah! I have tendencies to make a supposed-to-be-one-shot longer, and in the end it becomes a multi-chaptered one. Rawr!

Big thanks for my beta-reader, **Irrevocable Truth**, who has a wonderful patience in fixing my fic (editing my sentence, adding the articles (stupidly I always don`t know where to put them. Errrr~), correcting the verbs (tenses is my weakness after grammar), etc., etc. -,-").

But your supportive PMs and reviews from my previous fics keep me going on :D I love you all ! So would you mind R & R this one, too? Fyi, this piece has no connection with the actual plot of CCS. Just like my first piece, **Wordless no. 2**. So it seems AU? Perhaps yes. Not so sure, though =,="

Need your opinions :)

DISCLAIMER:

Card Captor Sakura belongs to CLAMP.

And… I just wrote this fic by sudden impulse, pals.

Sorry if I disappoint you -_-"

(Wait, this should be in the `Author`s Note` part, not in the `Disclaimer`, ne?)

* * *

for you, _the angel without wings_,

who taught me about `strength` and `kindness` :)

* * *

**: : Café au Lait : : **

**.**

**.**

**.  
**

ANOTHER rainy day in June, it was. The droplets of rain crashed against the window, leaving small trails of water flowing down towards the ground. The sounds of splashing water, dashed footsteps, people`s random chats, noises of an umbrella being spread open, all of them mixed together, creating such a beautiful natural music to someone`s ears.

He sat alone in a secluded corner of that cafeteria like always. Bringing nothing along except a small black notebook, like he usually did. He seemed so busy typing something, but if anyone were to care enough to take a deeper look into him, his eyes never virtually focused on the screen. Those pair of deep, intense dark eyes were use to trail her like a stalker. Furthermore, they never failed to notice every single detail of her—such as what she was wearing today, what she did, how she smiled, or other trivial stuffs. He could stay there for hours every day, watching her. He knew her routines just like she knew his.

Who was she?

No clue. He didn`t even know her name. She was only a waitress in a coffee shop, wearing her uniform and frilly apron with her long raven hair styled perfectly in a thick, neat French braid. For other people, maybe there was nothing special in her. Well, she was cute, but that was all. Period. No one seemed to be so absorbed by that girl—if we counted him out, that is**, **because for him, we would find the exact opposite result.

What made her so interesting in his eyes?

He didn`t know.

Not yet.

It was his task to find out. Or to _realize_.

How pitiful; he always gave this place a visit but never managed to know her name.

His lips pursed a small smile as he remembered the very first day he saw her. It was the same rainy day in early spring. Three months had passed. On that memorable day, he was caught in the rain on his way home from giving a private lesson. Yeah—a private teacher was the best pick as a part-time job, since he still needed to attend his classes in college. His schedule was so tight that day that he forgot to bring an umbrella. He tried to run as fast as possible, but unfortunately the downpour was too hard. Panting, exhausted and wet, he did the first thing that came to his mind: find shelter.

Shortly afterwards, he saw a café just a few meters away. Without even thinking, he burst in, only to be greeted by a dozen pairs of eyes staring at him with pity. He heard whispers and giggles. Feeling uncomfortable, he looked down to see his appearance. A wry smile formed on his lips. How nasty he was. Drenched from head to toe, with a wet bag slung over his shoulder, creating a trail of mud from the soles of his shoes. No wonder they all made fun of him.

"I`m sorry," he muttered an apology, when a dark-haired waitress approached him. "I shouldn`t have entered. I`ll go now."

But before taking a step to the door, he felt a slight tug on his sleeve.

He turned around.

And found the waitress handing him a towel.

Astonished, he pointed at himself stupidly. "For me?"

She nodded while giving him a sweet, innocent smile. After that she led his way to one of the wooden chairs, gesturing him to sit down. She took out her pen and block note, ready to write down his order. What nice service.

"I don`t know," he chuckled. "Anything you`d recommend from this place, please."

She then left without a word. Which, to be honest, was a relief for him. He wasn`t in the mood to talk much. Dropping his bag on the floor, he began to rub his head with the towel, back and forth, trying to drain water as much as possible. Sighing resignedly, he continued the action, rubbed it along his neck, arms, and over his clothes. In short moment, that towel was as damp as his hair. He inhaled a deep, long breath. Good. He would surely catch a cold tonight. His gaze fixed on the other guests who happily sipped their hot coffee, or dug their forks on a warm piece of cinnamon roll.

How perfect.

He could feel his mouth watering.

A light touch on his shoulder threw him back into reality.

"Y-yes?" He stammered, looking up to meet a pair of amethyst eyes staring back at him. That girl came back. Her hands held something which looked like a janitor`s uniform. Flashing a kind smile, she offered it to him.

But he didn`t get it. "What?"

She took his right hand, put the uniform in his large palm, and pushed his hand to his chest. By that action, suddenly he got the idea of what she meant. "This is for me? I mean… you want me to change?"

She nodded.

Stunned, he ruffled his damp hair nervously. "T-thanks. Mmm—so, where can I find the toilet?"

She raised an arm, giving him a clear direction before he took her own permission so that he could go changing. It was difficult, though. He spent more than twenty minutes in the toilet cubicle. Removing wet clothing and squeezing the water off annoyed him. Finally, after there was no water dripping from the tip of his clothes, he shoved them all into a plastic bag and went out. Yeah—today he was very thankful to the person who invented the idea of making a janitor`s uniform.

He walked back towards his chair, feeling much better. He peeked at the window and sighed; the rain was still pouring. Realizing that he would be stuck here for a long time, he bended down to check his books. Hopefully they were okay. He was used to putting all of his stuff into a plastic sack before putting them in his bag. If they were placed properly, there was a chance that his notes and textbooks didn`t get wet. But again, he was interrupted by someone`s shadow hovering over him.

It was her.

He couldn`t help but take a mental note of how often she came near him.

She was holding a tray filled with a cup of Café au Lait and a big slice of cinnamon roll.

And that was how it started.

**.**

**: : Café**** au Lait : :**

**.  
**

EVERYDAY he always stopped by. Ordering the very same Café au Lait, he sat silently at the same corner, watching her with the same deep, solemn expression. Sometimes he brought his notebook. Sometimes he brought his textbooks and took notes. Some other time he also did his assignments there. In a few weeks, all the waiters and waitresses knew his face.

Today when he strolled past the café under the protection of his umbrella, he saw a small paper placed on his usual table from outside the window.

**RESERVED**.

That was the word written on it.

Curiosity struck him, and he turned on his heels and entered the café. As he walked in, he asked the nearest waiter about the reservation paper he saw earlier. The waiter just laughed. "It was her," he said, his fingers making their direction to the French-braided girl who was busy writing down customers` orders. "I think she doesn`t want anybody to sit on your favorite spot."

He gave a stupid gaze. "Oh."

_She knew_.

She noticed him watching.

She knew he wouldn`t go home until ten minutes before the cafe closed. She knew he wouldn`t order anything but a cup of Café au Lait, no matter how long he stayed.

But she didn`t say a word to question it.

And God knows since when she started to automatically welcome his visit. When she saw him enter the warm, cozy room filled with the sweet smell, she would rush back to the counter and emerge with his Café au Lait. He didn`t even need to order. She had understood and he knew that. In short, they seemed to see through each other without words.

Was it enough?

Or not?

No one knows for sure.

"Why don`t you sit?" the waiter asked again. "She removes the reservation paper."

He spun to see the certain corner. _Right,_ he said mentally. In lieu of that notification, there was now a white elegant cup on the table. Bet it was Café au Lait. He then made his way towards her with a steady pace. By coincidence, she titled up her head and their eyes met. A happy smile was exchanged between them. He was about to say something but she turned around, willing to excuse herself.

"Wait!" He caught her wrist.

She stopped abruptly, staring into his eyes directly with confusion. Suddenly aware what he had done, he quickly let go of her hand. "Sorry. I just... I just want to know your name."

A pause.

"May I?"

She didn`t answer. Instead, she left him after giving a meaningful smile. Aware that he didn`t get what he wanted, he sat down on the chair with disappointment, eyes clinging on her small back that drew farther and farther. He took out his notebook from his parachute backpack and started to type something. But he couldn`t focus. His mind was busy wondering how much time it would take until he succeeded in getting her name.

However, he kept trying.

The next day he asked her the same question.

And so with the next, next day.

Even though the answer never came, he didn`t give up.

A week passed.

Followed by another one.

Still, he didn`t know what her name was and it drove him crazy. He felt like the stupidest man alive, somehow.

But that day was different.

**.**

**: : Café**** au Lait : :**

**.**

HIS digital watch showed 10:49 pm when he opened his black umbrella. The rain was pouring heavily, just like the days before this week. He hummed along the sidewalk as he made his way home. Today he didn`t have a chance to go to the café (blame his additional class in college, the professor _did_ test his temper for making the class so long) and it created a strange sensation in his chest. Watching the dark-haired waitress had become his daily need, he guessed. So, on second thought, he turned right in the crossroad—to the direction to the café. He knew that it was already closed but _maybe_, the idea of going there could help him get rid of the uncomfortable feeling.

Maybe.

He paced faster, the water splashing against his shoes. From a distance, he saw the café`s light had been turned off, but when he took closer steps, his eyes caught something. A silhouette. Human`s silhouette. More precisely, a _girl`s_ silhouette. His heartbeat raced instantly.

_No._

There was no chance it was her.

But the reality seemed to like to tease him.

The owner of that silhouette was definitely her. Stunned, he stared blankly at the sight before him, mouth agape. He was at a loss for words. A few meters in front of him, the amethyst-eyed waitress stood calmly in the café awning, looking up as she watched the rain with a serene expression. Her hair was no longer styled in a thick French braid, but loose down past her back with beautiful curls. She raised her left hands as if she was trying to catch the raindrops. The water splattered on her face and she let out a content sigh.

Lovely.

Gathering all the courage he possessed, he took another wide step closer. At the same time, she turned her head towards him. They looked at each other`s eyes for awhile before he finally spoke. "Going home?"

She nodded.

"But…" He examined her appearance briefly, "Did you forget your umbrella?"

Nod again.

"You`ve been here for long?"

The answer came as a nod, too.

"Mind if we go home together?" He surprised himself when those words were out of his mouth just like that. "I don`t bring spare umbrellas and… it`s not good for a girl to be alone in the night… this late."

Silence.

He was about to utter an apology for his effrontery when the girl smiled brightly, jumping into the sidewalk to be under his umbrella. Smiling back, he gave a small nod and they started their way. The streets were not so crowded anymore. But it was beautiful. The lights from billboards, shops, closed department stores and supermarkets, 24 hour convenient stores, casinos, cars, they decorated the city, illuminated it even though the dark rain clouds covered the stars. Hand in hand, they walked in a comfortable silence, his hand held hers—strong enough to not let go, but gentle enough to not hurt. He didn`t care about the time, didn`t care about how long they had been like that. He just followed the directions she gave with her other hand without actually thinking much. The most precious thing for him now was enjoying this moment.

But in an intersection she stopped in her tracks so suddenly.

"What`s wrong?" He asked, bended forward to look at her face.

She simply shook her head and pushed him away lightly. Knitting his eyebrows in confusion, he tried to guess her meaning. "Your home is around here?"

She gave a positive response with a nod.

"I can`t walk you home? I mean… not until your doorstep or your fence?"

Yeah, he could not.

"Why?"

No answer.

Maybe this was not the right time to know…

He inhaled a long breath, feeling a bit disappointed. But perhaps it was better to be this way, for now.

"Alright, then. Just take this umbrella." He shoved the umbrella shaft into her hand and put on the hood of his jacket to protect his head from the drizzle. "No refusal. Or I will insist to walk you home—until in front of your house," he added when he saw the signal of protesting from the dark-haired girl.

She looked hesitated at first, but later she bowed in a thankful manner.

"You don`t need to," he said with a chuckle. "You can return the umbrella to me anytime."

The look in her eyes was clearly saying _`really?`_.

"Of course." He asserted. "Take care."

She turned around, and her sneakers made small splattering noises as she went farther. But suddenly, after a minute or so, he felt a need to tell her something. Therefore, he called out.

"Wait!"

Looking back past her shoulder, she stared at him. Waiting.

"Eriol. My name is Hiiragizawa Eriol."

**.**

**: : Café**** au Lait : :**

**.**

THE NEXT DAY, Eriol didn`t see her figure when he entered the café. He couldn`t help but feel crestfallen. Maybe yesterday he shouldn't have done that. Maybe it would be better if he didn`t tell her about his name. Maybe…

"Eh?"

His imagination was interrupted halfway by something placed on his table. Well, practically it was a table that he always occupied. But lately he was used to addressing the table as _his_. Just to make things easier, he guessed.

His black umbrella.

It was folded neatly and put on his table, near a vase of white lilies.

Pursing an amused smile, he picked it up—in attempt to cast it inside his backpack—when his eyes caught a glance at a piece of memo slipped under the vase. Eriol immediately took the paper, scanning the very simple, yet meaningful, message written on it. His smile widened. His face brightened. His mood was lightened up.

He knew she was here.

Probably this time, only this time, she was watching him from somewhere while making a cup of Café au Lait.

_**Eriol,**_

_**Thank you for the umbrella.**_

_**-Daidouji Tomoyo-**_

She was mute.

He knew that.

_And he loved her._

.

**end.**


End file.
